


Let me stay with you

by daliakoen



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Lies, Love Confessions, M/M, Sad, Treason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29495022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daliakoen/pseuds/daliakoen
Summary: Waylon never felt that he belonged somewhere. Part of that was due the blindness from his childhood, an obstacle that ended up placing him in an orphanage and being one of many children without being adopted. But, his life was tolerated thanks to Edward Gluskin, the teacher of his youth. A man he planned to find and with whom he hoped to feel part of something once again.Overwhelmed by his past, Miles decides to find Chris, his best childhood friend from the orphanage. Little by little, he discovers that the loving boy from his past is a tough, emotionless person now. Unable to do more, Miles decides to work close to him without revealing his true identity. Hoping to see if that cute boy is still there.
Relationships: Eddie Gluskin/Waylon Park, Miles Upshur/Chris Walker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Let me stay with you

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Let me stay with you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448288) by [daliakoen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daliakoen/pseuds/daliakoen). 



> Notes:  
> I haven’t finished my stories and here I am giving myself more work hahaha XD but, I hope you like it. I had this idea for a long time and little by little the scenes were forming. I decided to give it a number of chapters to organize myself.
> 
> Any details, don’t hesitate to comment your point of view, I appreciate them very much :)  
> (This is my second translation :D English is not my mother tongue, so I’m really want to improve my skills doing this. And, I apologize if there are some mistakes. I know with practice I’ll be better!)

The cold wind was killing him and his hand made scarf wasn’t helping. He tried to exhale all the air contained on his scarf, in the hope that the wool would warm his nose and cheeks.

He closed his eyes once he felt the heat of that action. Fortunately, he had the feeling that he was close to find the place that he was looking for. He could feel it by the texture of the sidewalks and the geographical shape of the streets.

He had to admit that his journey wasn’t easy. Hungry, tired and sleepy, he dedicated on maintain his energy on his walk and hold on his possessions. All of them inside a grocery bag, while, with his other hand, he was holding his white cane to guide himself and not stumble more than necessary.

He made sure not to move it in many directions, since a great variety of footsteps and people could be heard talking around him. On this occasion, that group of people was considerate to him, because they gave him enough space to walk, without pushing or making him fall. He still had many marks from those past falls on his feet and arms, his body really wouldn’t endure more pain.

Luckily for Waylon, he felt a woman approaching near his path. He didn't hesitate to ask her for help about the exact location of the school that he was looking for.

The kind lady told him how close he was and how much he really needed. She even offered him to take him there, but bad experiences led Waylon to refuse and thank her for the guidance.

Thanks to that, he was already closer to the place. He could heard the students’ screams and laughter. That sound was the greatest music to his ears. His heart fluttered as he realized that he would be close to finding his History and Literature teacher.

He didn't know if it was appropriate, but he was dying to give him a big hug more than anything.

Edward Gluskin was the best teacher he had in his teens. He was always so wise and an inspiration for anyone. Waylon loved hearing him talk about History, especially the religious and art type. In the past, his heart beat uncontrollably when his teacher used to read aloud about a novel or motivational poem; each one capable of taking anyone's breath away. He would spend all his time listening to his sweet voice and never get tired.

He was so happy knowing that he would hear that melodious voice again.

He could no longer bear the wait, he decided to speed up his steps, causing a few stumbles that throw him off balance, just a bit.

He rushed inside the building with a smile on his face as he recognized the wooden doors. If his memory was correct, the reception was at the end of the hall, turning right at the corner. Touching the wood and glass that divided the space, he began to ask for help.

"Good morning, can I help you?"

Waylon made an effort to follow the voice and look at the man who came to his call.

"Good morning, excuse me, I'm looking for teacher Edward Gluskin... I was his student years ago, at that time he was teaching Social Sciences and Humanities."

The man gave a hiss at the comment and a squeal was heard as he moved his chair.

"I'm sorry, but teacher Gluskin stopped working here years ago."

Waylon's smile stopped once he heard that, his happiness turn into sadness just in seconds.

How was it possible? It couldn’t be true. His beloved teacher was always so spirited and full of joy, always moving him and their class to be inspired and to advance beyond their ambition. His words were the only voice Waylon repeated over and over again in his head to keep himself on his feet despite his blindness.

"Do you know where I can find him?"

"I'm sorry, we haven't heard from him and the teachers here don’t know if he is working in another high school."

The young blonde looked down, feeling hopelessness and hating his bad luck.

The receptionist seemed to notice it, so he decided to give him a possible solution to his problem.

"Look, there is someone who can help you... our school cook, Frank Antonio Manera. He was a very close friend of Gluskin. May be he knows something about his whereabouts."

"Where can I find him?" He asked quickly.

"His break has already started... I'll take you there."

The receptionist didn’t hesitate to hold his hand and guide him around the place. Unable to avoid it, many memories appeared in Waylon’s head. The noise and the conversations from the students, added to the closing and clashing sounds from the lockers, made him feel like a student again. He still could remember when he had to count a few steps to get to his locker. Also, he remembered the doors’ details. In that time, the doors had numbers. With a simple touch, he was capable to identify where were his classes. However, there were many occasions when teacher Gluskin took him to his next class. Waylon used to squeeze his hand tightly as they talked about how both felt about each new day. His heart leapt with joy everytime he felt that hand squeeze his.

When he arrived at the cafeteria, he couldn’t stop his laugh. Hearing the same screams, laughter, and steps from his younger days made him feel like he had traveled back in time to his student life. But, as he went further, the blonde could feel his own influence in the area, he could hear murmurs and comments full of curiosity towards him. Not all of them were negative.

" _Chef Manera_... there is a boy here who wants to talk to you." Said the receptionist with a somewhat mocking tone with the word _Chef_. Once the job was done, the man left and asked him to wait a bit, since Frank would be arriving at any moment.

Waylon didn’t know why everything turned out so well at this point. Since he was a child he was used to receive just bad luck. Being treated so kindly and that things turned out fine made him suspect how fate would ruin his search on his next move, as well as all the movements and struggles that he tried to overcome for as long as he could remember.

He wait patiently, holding the white cane in front of him. Although it seemed silly, he felt how an invisible barrier was protecting him with this pose.

Several minutes later, strong footsteps were heard. It was as if someone was wearing noisy boots with metal accessories. He could hear them colliding with each movement. That was, may be, Mr. Manera.

"Do I know you?... I know I’ve seen your face?”

Waylon swallowed some saliva and coughed to clear his throat. Then, he tried to sound as confident as possible.

"I was a student here... I spent most of my education here... Edward Gluskin was my teacher... I'm looking for him."

The man made a shocked sound and moved closer to touch his face. An act that surprised Waylon by not feeling the movement of Frank’s hand.

The warm hand brushed his blonde curls on his forehead and they moved closer to his sight, making movements close to them that Waylon managed to hear. The movement near his eyes were enough answers to remember him, especially when Frank noticed that he didn’t blink at his movements.

"You are Waylon, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"Ed always told me about his favorite students, he really liked you. He told me you had a poet and an artist spirit."

Unable to help it, his cheeks burned up hearing that description from the person he admired the most in this world.

Did he really still remember him?

That was his beautiful opinion about him?

Whether it was true or false, his weak heart didn’t want to give up hope that such words were real. Not wanting to sound desperate, Waylon decided to go to the real point of his search.

"It makes me so happy to hear that... I haven't seen him since I graduated from high school and I want to talk to him... the receptionist told me that he stopped working here... I couldn’t believe it."

A sigh came from Frank, it seemed that there was something negative about that comment.

“Yeah, no wonder. Ed had a difficult time the last years, but, you don't have to hear this from me… What do you need from Ed? Sorry, my friend got a little reserved, he won't let just anyone in."

A knot formed in his stomach at the idea that Edward would refuse his visit. But that was impossible, his beloved teacher would never do such a thing, he wouldn’t change, he knew he wouldn’t.

"I want to visit him... hear his voice and talk to him... that's all... I just want to listen his voice once more." His tone was filled with sadness in every word, being an obvious thinking that he couldn’t hold anymore. Listening to his teacher would be like medicine to his soul.

Waylon wanted with all his might to have some sign or perception of Manera's gaze, but he had no idea.

Frank, on the other hand, was looking at the boy from head to toe. His winter clothes were completely worn and somewhat dirty. His orange hat also showed the ripped fabric and his gloves had openings on the top of his fingers. The brunette could see the nails.

But, what worried him the most, was his face. That adorable white angel face was being overshadowed by the dryness of his dark lips and by the black bags under his eyelids. Looking into Waylon’s eyes, he could see that they were a mixture between gray and white. Confirming, in effect, his blindness.

There was no doubt that Waylon was homeless. Frank didn’t suspect that he had bad intentions, it was evident for the posture and voice without any threat.

Manera didn’t have the heart to deny his request. And even more when he saw him like this.

"Look, I still have to be here for my job, but I can get you a ride to see him..."

"Thank you so much! You don't know how much I appreciate it!" His tone of joy broke Frank’s heart.

Why was he so grateful for such a simple gesture? It wasn't a big deal, but here he was, thanking him like his life had been saved.

Despite all this situation and after taking a few breaths, the young man began to cough and touch his chest forcefully. His grimaces of pain began to scared Frank, whom didn’t hesitate to approach him and hold him by the shoulders. It seemed that he was about to faint.

"You ok?"

The boy nodded weakly and showed him his thumb as a sign of stability. Frank, without hesitation, gave him the address of the place and took him to a nearby bus. He even paid for Waylon’s ticket once he noticed he had no money. Also, he warned him that the bus will have stops, in the third one he will have to get out. So he had to be aware of the movements inside the transport.

As in other buses in which he was a passenger, Waylon took seat near the entrance, but not before looking at the window and waving, hoping that Frank would look at him. A smile escaped his dry lips when he heard his voice wishing him good luck.

And so, the bus engine roared and was a signal to Waylon to sit up properly. However, his body was tired and his yawns were constant when he felt the comfort of the chair and the bus shaking. Unable to avoid it and despite giving the fight against sleep, Waylon was losing strength in his eyelids. He tried to just close his eyes and rest a bit, but, when he closed his eyes, he fell asleep. Besides how comfortable he was, he started to feel more alive while listening his context, such as laughter, screams and car engines. All of that make him feel real, and not living in another distant place and isolated from everyone.

But, in that inner peace, there was a voice calling him. The playful and spirited voice of his beloved childhood friend, Miles, one of the lucky ones to be adopted in the _Archimbaud orphanage._

**_"Way Way"_ **

Despite hearing those words, he didn’t move. But this time, his friend's voice seemed to be next to his ears.

**_"Way Way... You have to wake up."_ **

Like a gunshot and hearing the voice so close and clear, Waylon opened his eyes wide and moved his arms everywhere. Fortunately, all his belongings were still there, but, the bus wasn’t moving.

"Excuse me, but you have to get out the bus..." Said a man with a lot of pity in his voice.

"I… I fell asleep..." Said Waylon, feeling so stupid and lost, just when he had a chance to reach his destination, he ruined it somehow.

"I’m sorry, but, you know where Abraham Street is, is it far from here?"

"A little bit, it's about four kilometers from here..."

Waylon kept his face neutral and got off the bus, not before thanking the stranger for the information.

He wouldn’t give up. Right now, he was so close to getting there and couldn’t just leave everything because of exhaustion. Bad things could always have a different picture when they were seen from another angle.

At his age and with so many times dealing with traffic lights, it was easy for him to identify the places with crossing signals, as well as the body rhythm of each person while crossing.

He felt so excited despite his bad circumstances. He knew he would get a well deserved welcome from the man he missed the most. Time wouldn’t change him. Professor Gluskin was always someone full of strength; he admired how much his teacher supported him in times of need.

He would conquer. He didn’t stop when he was hunger, he didn’t stop against the cold breeze and snow, he didn’t stop despite the pain on his feet and back. He would give his last breath and any sacrifice if that were necessary.

One thing he hated about his blindness was that sometimes the usual darkness and noises of the city made him feel oblivious to time. He literally had no idea of the time or if the sun had already set and the stars were what surrounded him now. Anxiety forced him to ask someone if he was in the right direction, unluckily, he still need to walk more.

He decided to take a seat for a few minutes on a public bench when he felt that his strength began to leave him completely. He rested a bit and warmed his hands and nose against the cold and hard-falling snow.

He didn't want to give up, he shouldn't, but the hunger and the cold didn't let him think clearly. In an attempt to get up, he fell back to the ground with the full weight of his body. His feet no longer enduring the wounds and exhaustion. He didn't stop there, he tried to get up and walked slowly down the sidewalk despite the constant pain in his feet and his entire body.

How he wanted to have a warm bed, a shelter from the cold in those moments or be comforted in the arms of someone he loved.

But, in the end, who would love him? Who in their right mind would endure his disability? He didn't know what he looked like, but he know for sure that he wasn't attractive. He had accepted that fact a long time ago, but bringing it back only caused him more pain. Even more when he remembered a past romantic relationship ended in disaster. A relationship that he allowed to twist by letting himself to be carried away in his own fantasies. He just hoped to never see that man again.

If he arrived with Gluskin, would his teacher be glad to see him again? Has his attitude changed? What if all of this was all a waste of time?

He shook his head and even ordered the uncertain voices in his head to be quiet. Whatever happens, he will face them.

His resolution helped him to maintain his rhythm again. He continued with breaths shaken by fatigue and with a cough that didn’t leave him this time. And, without being able to stop it, he fell to his knees against the soft snow and fell to the ground while the wind and white flakes were covering him.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to ask for help, he wanted to see Gluskin. He just wanted to see Gluskin. Why wasn't that simple wish fulfilled? What did he do wrong to receive all of this?

He was never a religious person, but in desperation, he began to plead and pray to that powerful being.

The dark, the cold and the absolute noise of the wind, similar to a scream in agony, surrounded his poor body. He was just so tired, exhausted from fighting, not in the mood to be strong and tired of expecting energy that his weak body no longer had.

In an attempt to get up, his body only rolled, with his face looking up to the sky, feeling the snowflakes touch his cheeks and lips. Instinctively, he licked his lips to relieve a dryness that will get worse over time.

However, in those moments, when he felt the cold claws of sleep envelop him again, he heard fast footsteps. They scraped and splattered the snow with every quick step. But what made his heart race was not the presence of another person who could help him, but the melodious voice that made him smile every time he was depressed, that voice that protected him from any nightmare, that voice that helped him see a true light in his darkness.

His beloved teacher, his beloved Edward Gluskin, had finally found him.

What a shame, how shameful and unfortunate. Waylon knew he would find him, somehow, but he couldn't help but feel ashamed to be found in such a deplorable state.

"Oh God! Waylon! Are you ok?! Please tell me you're okay!" His panic-filled voice only made Waylon laugh and start to cry with happiness.

Without waiting any longer and to confirm his doubts, he took off one of his worn gloves and ran his hands over his savior’s face. Confirming, in effect, that Edward was the person in front of him.

His heart melted at such beautiful touch, he couldn't resist his porcelain-smooth skin, his straight nose, and his strong, straight hair combed back, along with the shaved areas on the sides. Another chuckle escaped him as he noticed that his hairstyle hadn't changed.

"Professor Gluskin ... I found you, I finally found you." He said with his last strength. Letting exhaustion take over and knock him unconscious in the presence of his most beloved one. At the end, a feeling of warmth was the last thing his body felt.

***

Every night he began to have the same dream, Miles Upshur kept dreaming about Chris, his childhood friend. There were lots of memories that came to him at night. In some, he watched them as moving pictures. Similar to a video. For example, in one they were playing as pirates in the orphanage yard. In others, they helped Father Martin with cooking and cleaning. Without a doubt, together they were incredible and inseparable and, the truth was, they really loved like brothers. They rarely fought between them and if they did, a simple look in their eyes and an uncontrollable laughter made the anger stop.

Tonight, he dreamed about a particular scene. The moment a short circuit caused by a storm let them in total darkness in the orphanage. Miles hated that kind of weather; he was always petrified to hear thunders and be alone in the dark. His crying was inevitable that dark night, a sob that Chris noticed far from Miles’s bed. To make him feel better, his best friend lay down on his bed and covered him with his soft blue blanket, promising to stay by his side until he slept peacefully. From there, the dream showed him a non-existent storm, where calmness and paradise began.

They were so close, that they even planned their future together; they were both going to have a _burger restaurant_. It would have their names on it and they would handle it in their own way. Both even said that they would handle tickets with promotions and the orphanage kids would eat free with a coupon for life. So many innocent plans and adventures that couldn’t be done because he was adopted.

Of the things that caused a lump in his throat, was the day when he looked from the car window at Chris's sad face from the distance, as he traveled to a new life without him, completely breaking the dream both had.

He tried everything to have Chris by his side, he even ask his adoptive parents to adopt Chris, but they weren't planning on having two children. In the end, Chris himself asked him to accept, to take the opportunity to have a warm family and a better future. That later on, they will meet again and will be friends forever.

Miles wondered how much his buddy would remember about him. He hoped there weren't any grudges, although he wouldn't blame him for having them.

Right now, he didn’t understand the reasons for these memories. He did not know if they were a sign or a feeling asking him to look into his past and start bonds with his childhood friend. Also, a huge shadow of guilt followed him when he acknowledged that he had not even made a phone call or visit the orphanage in so many years.

Maybe even Chris doesn't remember him or hates him for not communicating.

Despite knowing that and the pain it gave him, his bravery forced him to investigate further.

Now, at nine o’clock in the morning and with a whole day free to investigate, he turned on his laptop quickly. Without wasting time, he began to type the orphanage’s name and additional information.

The result lasted almost a second; the click took him to a very well done web page with several tabs about historical information and requirements for filling out a procedure. That data did not attract his attention. What his eyes were looking at were the contact numbers and a record of all the generations of children who came to the building.

When he found the photo of his generation, a smile crossed his lips when he saw the variety of faces that gave back to him so many memories and activities that he had with all of them. He couldn't forget the twins and their extremely quick way of finding him while playing hide and seek. Billy, always shy and the best artist. He always drew comics about a four-armed alien and the league of superheroes, whom were similar to the kids from the orphanage.

No one could ever imagined that his talent would make him one of the most popular comic artists in Denver. Besides Chris, Billy was also one of the people he wanted to meet, the same with the calm and lovable Waylon, who was the only blind boy during that time. The blonde arrived at the orphanage when he was eight years old, shortly after the arrival of little Billy. Despite having such a disability, Waylon was very good at hiding and seeking. Also, he was a good kitchen helper. When he was about to give his support, he had a good instinct for the use of spices and quantities.

How were their lives during all this time?

Were they okay?

He couldn't stand it, and decided to make a call in hopes of contacting Father Martin or to find out if he was still running the place.

He really hoped the father would continue to show the same kindness and humanity from his childhood.

 _"Archimbaud Orphanage, good morning."_ A woman's voice was heard, full of sweetness and tranquility.

"Good morning… excuse me, is Father Martin Archimbaud still working in the orphanage?… You see, I used to be an orphan there… I've been living in Denver for a while and I'd like to see him again."

_"Of course, Father Martin still works here, but he only attends appointments in the mornings... if you need to see him, you can come at ten o'clock, he is free at that time."_

"Thank you very much, I'll be there then."

With that finally done and with a slight hint of anxiety, Miles Upshur took a quick shower and wore his usual brown leather jacket, along with his long-sleeved white shirt that slipped underneath. Also, he was wearing blue pants and brown shoes to match.

He looked at the mirror and used some hair gel to comb his slightly long brown hair. Now that he thought about it, if he let it grow longer, he could get a ponytail.

His mother never approved of him having long hair in college, but his father always showed support and sympathy for the look, because it reminded him of the hippie fashion he adored so much.

As an adult and partly for respect, he didn’t let grow his hair too long, mostly for his beloved adoptive mother.

Without further ado and before leaving his house, he was thoughtful as he held the cold door handle tightly. Something told him that this new adventure and curiosity was not good at all, but a part of him already yearned to know the whereabouts of his first family.

He shook his head, took the keys of his Jeep and got out without hesitation. But, before getting into the car, he approached and greeted his neighbor, who couldn't stop laughing when he noticed how the dogs came barking in search of Miles to pet them.

Miles loved animals, but his job as a journalist always kept him busy. Maybe he would have a pet or adopt one when his job wasn't so enslaving. In fact, his boss, Richard Trager needed someone to write some reports and investigations that could be accomplished from home and sent by e-mail or using a USB. He was his boss's first choice, giving him only three days to think about that offer.

He liked the idea of not having to go to his workplace every day and be locked in his small office; he preferred the comfort of his home and be the master of his own time.

Maybe he would take that offer. He really liked the idea.

Without further ado, Miles started his car, said goodbye to his neighbor and headed to the orphanage.

He wondered how much everything had changed.

Chris.

How Chris would receive him after so many years?

***

He was dead. Waylon knew that. Only in paradise he could find such warm and welcoming place, with a comfy bed and with blankets that were so soft.

If he was dead, he knew that he died with genuine happiness. Finding the man he loved the most in this world and remembering his sweet voice more clearly.

He could even feel a big and strong hand slide into his hair lovingly. Who would be taking care of him so kindly?

Without wasting any time, the blonde struggled to open his eyes in the hope of seeing again in the afterlife, being surprised that the usual and quiet darkness was in his sight. He blinked again and realized that he was still alive and in the same condition. But, where was he? Who was the person so close to him?

"Hey... are you feeling better?" The voice that he loved so much was heard loudly and made him laugh instantly, almost reaching the edge of tears when he realized that his beloved teacher was there, in front of him and taking care of him. His kindness was still there as always.

"Professor Gluskin... is that you?" Although he had already done so, Waylon asked permission to touch him, being a giggle from Edward and his approach towards his thin hands his answer. The blonde laughed again, unable to believe the success of his goals.

“You haven't changed at all, Waylon… I recognized you immediately when I was looking for you… I never forgot your oral poem about _The Woman with Blue Eyes_ … I convinced you to apply for it in the novels, essays and poems contest… I felt very proud when you won the second place… you have an incredible talent for art."

A giggle and an acceleration in his heart began in him. He never imagined it was seen that way. With such simple words, he felt that all the good and calming emotions surrounded his body and delicate heart.

"Thank you teacher, I was very inspired back then." Gluskin was his muse back in the past, along with all the novels and stories Edward shared in class. "But, professor, how did you know I was looking for you."

"Frank... he called me when you went to school... he worried because he saw you in bad shape, it was late and you weren’t coming, so I went outside looking for you... I was scared too when I saw you lying in the snow."

Edward looked at the grimaces on his face, the joy that the boy had turned into seriousness and neutrality; it was as if he had an internal battle about what to say or how to express it. Looking closer, he saw sadness surround his white face.

"I’m so embarrassed... I'm so sorry, this was not the way I wanted to meet you again."

Gluskin looked at him with confusion, but began to understand his point of view a little bit. Since high school, Waylon has always been the type of person who didn't want to make a fuss or cause burden. That aspect hadn’t changed, as well as his shyness when he saw how Waylon was a little scared when he felt him touch his hand.

But what he wondered the most was the physical condition of his ex-student.

The clothes, hat and gloves were very damaged and somewhat dirty, also, his tennis vans were stained and with openings in the fabric. How long has he been like this? Who left him in the cold? He knew that Waylon joined into an association for people with his disabilities once he graduated. What happened?

"You don't have to apologize... I would never mind having you here..." He said with complete assurance as he slid his fingers into Waylon's. He really felt a lump in his throat when he felt how thin they were.

The boy looked down, unable to avoid smiling. He straightened up more on the bed and sat more comfortably.

"Professor... Can I hug you?" He said with great fear and shyness, feeling like he was breaking the little strength and self-control he had.

Eddie got closer and, without warning, he hugged him very lovingly. Waylon gave a surprise sigh and began to respond with the only strength he had left. The emotion didn’t let him hold his breaths and the weight of his sadness. He began to sob and lose control completely with every minute that passed. Even though he tried to stop his crying, the closer breath made him cry harder. As a result, Waylon received words of comfort and patting on the back in an attempt to making him feel better.

Gluskin, from his position, felt the warm tears cross his dark shirt and realize that his beloved student had to endure so many difficult times and only God knows for how long.

"Shhh... Everything will be fine... Calm down... You're safe now... It's okay Waylon, let it out." He said almost like a whisper as he held him tightly.

Waylon, unable to formulate words other than moans or coughs, just nodded at him and let his sadness vent like a stream of water.

"Tell me what happened to you... Why were you on the streets alone?"

Between a few breaths to compose himself, the young man managed to answer the question more calmly and without breaking the hug.

"I don't know where to start..." He said completely lost actually. His life was a bloody mess. His past, present and future were the same. The only calm and light he had was the man holding him right now. He helped him to calm his inner demons and silence all those voices that asked him to surrender.

"Take as long as you need, when you're ready, you're going to tell me... but first, I want you to eat. I prepared a rotisserie chicken with mashed potatoes and soup ... It’s officially lunchtime... you must be hungry."

Waylon’s stomach made a roar sound in response. He blushed immediately when he heard a chuckle from his savior. He wondered what face Edward was making right now, a mocking giggle was his only clue.

Without wasting any more time, Edward helped him to get up without letting go his hand. He guide him to a table that Waylon managed to feel was made of wood, both because of the material he felt with his hands and the squeaks he made when he sat down.

Between movements of the dishes and glasses, Waylon could smell the delicious smell of chicken. His saliva almost escaped from his mouth at such delicacy.

"Come on! Eat all you want, there is enough."

A laugh and thanks were heard in the dining room, followed by a few words to start their banquet. While both ate, they began to formulate questions and possible answers to so many doubts.

Waylon felt that his beloved light would help him to still standing.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it! Feel free to comment!


End file.
